Writer. Wig Wearer. Shame Buster.

Oh Yes I Wank. Said No Mother Ever.

It’s OK for mothers to marvel at the rubbish truck boy. Get all titillated by 50 shades of spanking. Want sexy lingerie. Demand a good servicing. But it’s not OK to admit, that after going to yoga, writing a report, and picking up the groceries you flicked the bean until it was time to get the kids.

Last week at an outstanding comedy show EastEnd Cabaret—’a high-powered feminine ‘Flight of the Conchords’ dipped in acid and drenched in smut’—they asked whether anyone in the audience had had a wank that day.

As I went with a bunch of mostly male work friends, and we had no idea what we were in for, it was like being asked about fellatio in front of your parents.

Eyes straight ahead.

Pretend you don’t know what they’re talking about.

I couldn’t look at the young guy to my right who works in shipping. But then I couldn’t look over to the Founder of the company as I didn’t want to acknowledge that I even knew what wanking was to him. Or my friend slash boss to my left.

Awkward.

A couple of lads at the back put their hands up—I think they had a bottle of gin with them—but all of our hands were firmly being sat on.

Then I remembered something a boyfriend told me once, that “It’s usually once a day for most guys.” Which meant my work colleagues were a bunch of pussies not raising their hands. There were two courageous vixens on stage, who had just sung about ‘accidental anal!’ Oklahoma style (eyes even more straight ahead on that one), and none of us were brave enough to answer their question.

I had an insanely strong urge to raise my hand. On behalf of all 40-year-old women I wanted to yell, “Hey, I butter my biscuit, I paddle the pink canoe. Its OK ladies, raise your hand….”

My right hand twitched. “DO IT!”

“DON’T” said my left – then you’ll forever be ‘The Wanking Mother’ in the office.

That’s worse than the wanking boss…

I mean triple Ew.

Because we all know Mums don’t masturbate. Right?

A while ago my yoga teacher was complaining of a sore ankle and how she wasn’t able to go running and and I said, “try masturbating—it’s great for circulation and getting your system energized”.

She looked at me like I had horns growing from my pigtails.

Because you can’t assume other woman, you know, do that. Whereas men don’t have any issues assuming. They know. They nod. They wink. They are all part of the same secret club called Jerking Off and there’s no shame unless they’re caught. Apparently we shouldn’t give our partners grief about it either.

EastEnd Cabaret left me wondering why I couldn’t admit it because the stats say there’s a few of us doing it.

It is not ew. It’s fucking amazing that our bodies can do this. And we don’t need the fucking bit.

Victorian Doctors in the 1880’s treated women with hysteria by helping them climax—often assigning this delicate job to midwives—and relieving, for a while, hysterical symptoms: nervousness, respiratory troubles, insomnia, spasms and irritability—before the vibrator was invented. Knowing orgasms are a more natural solution than swallowing pills, I think it’s fine to assign the delicate job to ourselves.

We don’t have to show our daughters (hell no!) or give them pamphlets but if they overhear Mums joking about “Rubbing One Out” they won’t think it’s weird. Or shameful.

Or we could get a trusted, way cooler than us, friend to play them this clip from the Cabaret girls, Danger Wank . Or this brilliant skit from Amy Schumer . Or play Cindi Lauper’s She Bop loudly.

Because I want my daughter to know she can make herself feel like Wonderwoman with the bullet reflecting bracelets and everything. On her own. It’s powerful. And if she knows how to do that then she’ll know exactly what she needs when Leroy or Lisa calls.

As that Hungarian Doctor, Thomas S Szasz said once on masturbation ‘In the nineteenth century it was a disease; in the twentieth, it’s a cure.’

Enough sitting on hands. Well actually more of that but more raising hands too! National Masturbation Month is on and it’s much more interesting than Dry July. #momswhowank #dangerwank

I will leave you with a quote from a very funny woman Amy Sedaris – ‘An orgasm is much like the final available seat on the last lifeboat of a sinking ocean liner: everybody for themselves! Don’t expect it to be handed to you like a free cup of coffee, you must be aggressive in your pursuit, not unlike a raccoon foraging in a trash can for any edible morsel.’

I’m staying at the Moore’s house and Clair put “She Bop” on the sound system I was able to tell her I knew what “this song is about”. Also “down the long driveway” is a delightfully specific piece of prose.

Thanks Nick. Here’s a few more songs you can put on and be all winkish about – The Divinyls ‘I Touch Myself and The Cure’s ‘Pictures Of You’. Billy Idol of course – dancing with myself’. The 80s were full of it.

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About Me

Writer. Wig wearer. Bad dancer. Basically, extremely dangerous. When I’m not ranting here about something rummaging around in my head I’m a brand storyteller and speaker-up-er of messages bombarding young girls on body image.

Pretty Smart

Pretty Smart
Talks for teens to help them feel pretty smart about their appearance